


The Failure Within

by Nefaria_Black



Series: To Live in the Shadows [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Canon Compliant, Gen, Light Angst, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 07:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13852641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefaria_Black/pseuds/Nefaria_Black
Summary: On the morning after his escape from Azkaban, Rodolphus faces Lucius and the choices they made





	The Failure Within

**Author's Note:**

> Challenges and Prompts can be found at the end, as usual.  
> Reviews keep writers going, please leave me your thoughts

**The Failure Within**

 

_Malfoy Manor, January 1996_

Rodolphus woke with the sound of the door creaking open. Years ago, he would have jumped off the bed, wand at ready, a spell leaving his lips as he faced the threat. He did none of it. He couldn’t anymore, not yet.

His body was still stiff from freezing in Azkaban for fourteen years, his joints stuck and painful from crouching on the floor for hours and days and weeks. His reflexes would need coaching to become what they used to be naturally. His wand had not been returned to him yet, and how he missed the feeling of wood against his palm, how he missed the ability to break those that would not bend to the Dark Lord’s will. His lips were chapped, minute fissures opening and bleeding, just enough to taste blood when his tongue ran over them, whenever he moved them. His mind so torn that he wasn’t sure he still remembered the spells.

He did command his body to move, and turn, painfully slow, every muscle screaming his opposition, every inch of skin screaming for the warmth of the bed. Warmth, that forgotten thing he had spent years dreaming of, only to realize, the previous night, that it was something well beyond his dreams. Sitting on the edge of the mattress seemed an unsurmountable task. But he had escaped from Azkaban, he would not be defeated by a damned bed and a sore body.

“Good morning, Rodolphus,” came the ever purring, deep voice of Lucius, “I hope you had a good night sleep.” He did not dare come closer, waiting at the door. Rodolphus smiled to himself, or so he thought, it could have been just another pained expression. Lucius was afraid to approach him, afraid of his probable madness, of a reaction he could not predict.

“Get the curtains, Lucius,” he ordered, with a nod to the window, “I’ve missed the sun.” He regretted that choice the instant the curtains moved. Because the light he had missed was hurting him too, everything he craved for years seemed to come with pain. Because Lucius had no need to touch the curtains to open them, he was free to use his magic.

The silver-haired man seemed to feel safe enough at Rodolphus move to shield his eyes from the light. Maybe he should have snarled at the light, maybe he would look mad enough not to be disturbed at such a freaking early hour. He forced his eyes to open and face the morning light, face the other wizard in the room too.

Lucius kept a stilled expression, but Rodolphus knew his piercing grey eyes were roaming him. Noticing the voids in his face, the hollows where his eyes now sat deeper, his gangly neck that stuck out from his shoulders. Taking in the way his pyjama hung from his very bones, the way his skin had yellowed, greyed, dried and shrivelled. Observing his decrepitude and thanking whatever gods there might be that he had not shared of his luck.

“I came to bring you this,” he said has he extended a wand, Rodolphus wand, “I thought you would like it back.”

_Like it back… Pfft, I’ve spent fourteen years wishing for the feel of it, wishing for my magic back._

“I thought it had been destroyed,” he whispered, moving faster than he imagined he could to grab the wand from Lucius palm, “I thought the Wizengamot had them broken and burned.”

“They can’t. Old laws prevent them from destroying the wands of living wizards and witches in Azkaban, in case they’re proven innocent. They must kill you or give you to the Dementors before your wand is snapped.”

“We were all given to the Dementors, Lucius. They have the run of the place, don’t you know?”

The sharp edge of his voice was palpable. Rodolphus was a little happier that Lucius had recoiled under his scorning gaze, a silent accusation of failure. Lucius dropped his head momentarily, recognizing his fault.

“I am sorry, Rodolphus, but there was nothing-” he was not allowed to finish.

“Nothing? Nothing you could have done?” his tone is biting, vicious, scorching, “you didn’t even try to save me. You didn’t try to save Bella. You gave us all up to the Dementors.”

“And what was I supposed to do? Tell me, Rodolphus,” and Lucius tone had become equally biting, “just how was I supposed to save the lot of you? When I was finally cleared, the three of you, Lestranges, decided to finally come out of hiding, picked up Barty, and went after the Longbottoms!” His voice was a quiet scream, a growl disguised as a purr.

“And you wouldn’t risk your new found safety.”

“How could I? You were a lost cause! The Dark Lord had fallen almost a month before, how was I going to stand for you? What was I going to say? That our Master, presumed dead, was so powerful that he still held the four of you under the _Imperius_? That you and Bella had not been his most vicious lieu-tenants for over a decade?”

Rodolphus kept his eyes on those of Lucius, seething, but helpless to deny the truth. The hard, bitter truth that they were far beyond saving long before they were captured. The man before him was a stranger now. He had had fourteen years of freedom, of a wife and a son, while Rodolphus had nothing but Azkaban and the immensity of the void it created. His wife was close, his brother was close, but there were thick, cold walls between them. Frozen bars on heavy metal doors that had open only once, to let them in. They had not really spoken to each other for a decade or so, ever since Azkaban had reduced their communication skills to screaming their way through the nightmares and the mind-shattering visits of the rotten spectres.

Lucius held his raging eyes all along. They used to be war comrades, brothers-in-arms, bound and bond by the same oath. Some of it would come back, he hoped. But most was lost, he knew. Azkaban and Dementors had taken most of Rodolphus memories, all of the happy ones for sure, and was left was not enough to rebuild the bridge.

**Author's Note:**

> Creative Collection Challenge: Pairing - Lucius Malfoy; Angsty Dialogue - You didn’t even try to save me  
> Caffeine Awareness Challenge: Macchiato - Write a story set in the morning


End file.
